Where Honour calls you, go you must
by silvermoongirl10
Summary: AU WWI verse, Porthos takes the opportunity the war brings to explore what lies beyond the village where he and Aramis grew up. Aramis wants nothing more than to stay on his family's farm in peace. But at age 18 they must face the perils of war and try to survive the years they spend in the trenches. (The title is taken from Owen Seamen's poem Pro Patria).
1. How did we end up here?

**A/N I'm not completely sure whether I should post this, but a friend convinced me too. I guess this idea came from having a few lectures on World War One and getting hooked on BBC's new World War One drama **_**The Crimson Field. **_**Being a first year History undergraduate I have tried to be historically accurate as possible, but I'm not an expert on this subject so I have tried the best I can. I have based this story from a British perspective as I don't have any information for other countries during the war; I hope this doesn't bother anyone. The regiment I have put them in was a real British Regiment until 1994 when it amalgamated with another regiment, this new regiment again amalgamated with two more regiments in 2005. So if you are interested in finding out more just message me and I can try to tell you what you want to know or I can try to point you in the right direction.**

* * *

**September 1915**

Aramis was sat on the edge of his dugout just staring at the walls of mud; he was taking deep breaths trying to prepare himself mentally for what was going to happen early the next morning. Tomorrow he and the others in his Battalion would be going over the top, and taking part in what was being called the Battle of Loos. He chuckled without any real humour thinking about what he was like just three months ago. He still remembered the shock he felt when he looked up the series of trenches for the first time. Men he had known back home who had left just six months before him looked drained and the boys the same age as himself looked far older than the tender age of 18. A few of his fellow soldiers he knew were underage but had managed to lie their way into the army to fight for King and Country, the youngest was Jimmy Marshall who was just 16.

He turned his head when he heard footsteps stopping beside him. Looking up he blinked against the sunlight to find he was looking up at his best friend, and more or less his brother, Porthos. Wordlessly he shifted to allow Porthos to squeeze himself into the dugout.

"You holding up alright?" questioned Porthos as he settled his back up against the opposite wall from Aramis.

Aramis shrugged, "Better than those just a bit further up the line"

Porthos nodded his head solemnly in agreement. As a tactic to try and cripple the German defences the British had used the poisonous gas Chlorine for the first time with limited success, the wind had blown some of the gas back towards the British line. This coupled with the inefficiency of their gas masks had led to many of their fellow Tommy's being affected by their own gas.

Porthos cleared his throat gaining Aramis' attention, "Well it could be worse" Aramis raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "We could be engineers who are having to tunnel underground laying mines"

Aramis shuddered, yes that would be worse. He had grown up on a farm used to the wide open spaces and found the trench and its dugouts confining, if he had to go underground he knew he wouldn't be able to function. He shared a small smile with Porthos and looked up at the sky and thought back to how peaceful his life had been before the war had got in the way.

* * *

**July 1914**

Aramis and Porthos came from the village Kemble in Gloucestershire, both their father's families had originally came from France, but they were both fourth generation English. Aramis' family owned a farm they had worked hard to pay for, most families rented farms but the rich landowners were a kind family and over the generations the de la Fère's had allowed the d'Herblay's to eventually buy the farm. The d'Herblay family's farm was the closest to the de la Fère family home. Porthos' father worked as a farm hand and had been invited to live in the quite spacious farmhouse. Porthos was a month older than Aramis and had taken to looking after the boy he considered his little brother. Sadly, Porthos' mother had died when he was five so Aramis' mother had taken to looking after the boy when the men went out to work the fields.

Living so close to the grand house where the de la Fère family lived meant Aramis and Porthos had come into contact with Athos and his younger brother Thomas. While most rich families would have forbidden their children to socialize with working class children, Athos' father believed that his sons should get to know the people who lived on their land. So the four young boys had struck up a sort of friendship despite the range in ages.

The once peaceful air of Kemble had slowly begun to disappear after the assassination of Franz Ferdinand at the end of June, the old men of the village wished they were younger so they could join the army to go and fight for their King and Country. This attitude was shared by a lot of the young men, Porthos included only because he wanted to see other places. But Aramis just wished for a peaceful life on the farm that he lived on.

On a warm Sunday afternoon the four of them were sat up on top of a hill contentedly watching the clouds and birds.

Thomas looked at the three older boys and asked, "Do you really think there is going to be a war?"

Athos looked at the boys who were sat around him and then answered his brother, "It looks like there will be one, whether Britain will join it is yet to be seen. But if we do go to war I know that I'll be joining the army"

Thomas looked over at Aramis and Porthos, "Will you go?"

"Only when we're 18" responded Aramis, "My mother has made us promise to only join the army once we're 18"

Thomas nodded, "Mother has forbidden me from even thinking about joining the army until I am 18"

"That is because you are only 16" chuckled Athos shaking his head,

Porthos smiled and leaning over he ruffled Thomas' hair, Thomas responded by launching himself at Porthos pushing the older boy to the floor.

Aramis shook his head and then turned to Athos, "How does Anne feel about you joining up?"

Athos shrugged, "She says I'm very brave and that she promises to wait for me, and marry me once the war, if it is coming, is over"

Aramis nodded and sighing simultaneously he and Athos reached over and broke up the tickle fight between Porthos and Thomas. Once peace had been restored Aramis leaned back with his hands behind his head and watched the soaring sparrows. Deep down he knew trouble was brewing and just prayed it would be over before the young lads like Thomas had to go.

* * *

**August 1914**

It had come. The streets in every village, town and city on the 4th had been filled with people shouting out that Britain was at war. Athos had gone to join the Gloucestershire regiment and would be a Lieutenant leading a platoon of men at the young age of 20. The de la Fère family with Aramis and Porthos had gone to the train station to say goodbye to Athos two weeks after the outbreak of the war.

Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder, "Take care of yourself"

Athos nodded, "I will. I just hope that they are right in that this will all be over by Christmas so you both don't have to come with me"

Aramis smiled, "Let's hope so". However, his smile vanished once Athos was on the train, he watched with growing sadness as the train pulled away in a cloud of steam. He and Porthos turned away and left allowing Athos' family some time alone.

Aramis walked through the village in silence, in the past couple of weeks those who had not yet joined the army were being pressured to do so. Some of his former classmates who had initially been hesitant soon joined up to avoid being called cowards. Fortunately for Aramis and Porthos, the village seemed to understand that the two lads were needed on the farm.

Porthos seemed to sense that there was something bothering him, "What is wrong Aramis?"

Aramis sighed, "When you become 18 in early January. You…er…you won't join up without me will you?" This had been something that had been worrying him; he wouldn't be 18 until the end of February meaning Porthos would have to wait almost two months to join up. Something he was determined to do so.

Porthos stopped and reached out an arm stopping Aramis, "Listen here. I will _not_ go without you alright? I _promise. _Something as big as going to war, I will not leave before you and then leave you to join up on your own" Porthos knew that Aramis' greatest fear was being left alone and hated that Aramis, his best friend and brother, thought that he would leave him to cope with joining the army and going to war alone.

Aramis sighed in relief and relaxed, he smiled at Porthos before they continued walking through the village. Once they reached the farmhouse Aramis found his mother cooking dinner, she turned around and seeing the boys she gave them a sad smile.

"Did Athos leave alright?" Sophie asked,

"Yeah, he seemed pretty excited to be leaving home for the first time" answered Porthos as he lowered himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Aramis instead walked over to stand beside his mother and squeezed her hand; she turned and hugged him fiercely.

"I'm praying so hard that you will not have to go and fight. I cannot lose my boys" Sophie stifled her sobs by pressing her face into Aramis' shoulder. Aramis tightened his arms around his mother engulfing her in a hug. At one time Aramis had had siblings, an older sister and an older brother, but both had died of illnesses both before reaching the age of ten. And he knew his mother feared losing her last child and Porthos the boy who had become like another son to her.

"I hope so to Mama, I hope so to" murmured Aramis; he was terrified at the thought of having to kill another human being. He didn't think he'd be able to do it and he feared what he might become if he survived, his father had gone to fight in the Second Boar War when he was two years old and returning when he was four. His mother told him that sometimes his father was distracted because he was trapped in the memories from the war he took part in and Aramis feared what might happen to him after he was haunted by a war.

Aramis looked over at Porthos; he could see his best friend was torn. On the one hand Porthos wanted to go and fight, to take a chance to see what lay beyond Kemble village. But on the other hand Porthos did not want to worry the woman who had essentially been his mother since the age of five.

Aramis stooped a little and buried his face into his mother's shoulder, while Porthos strived to explore, Aramis was content to stay on his family's farm. He hoped and prayed that he wouldn't have to go to war, but something told him that his prayers would not be answered.

Aramis was right, on the 1st of March 1915 Aramis and Porthos enlisted in the Gloucestershire Regiment and went to war.

* * *

**September 1915**

"Aramis. Aramis!"

"Huh?" he shook his head and sat up looking across at Porthos who was leaning forward and looking at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? You looked as if you weren't having a pleasant dream"

Aramis smiled at his friend and nodded as he rubbed his eyes not knowing he had fallen asleep. He realized in the eight months that he was in the army that he had changed and from his letters home his mother had realized this to. And Aramis was terrified that he was turning into someone his mother would hate, one good thing that came from being in the army was that he had been able to perfect his already good aim with a gun. Hunting rabbits back home had enabled him to have a good aim with a shotgun, but with an army rifle, Aramis had become unbeatable he had shocked the Sergeant in charge of training them.

Without speaking he and Porthos got to their feet and went out to stand on the trench board and looked out at No Man's Land.

"Be careful, I don't need you two getting shot before we've even gone over the top" said a stern voice from behind them.

Porthos smiled and turned, "We're being careful Sir"

Athos merely raised an eyebrow, "If I recall, your 'being careful' led to many injuries from falling out of trees Porthos"

Aramis snorted, it was his and Porthos' good fortune that when they came to France they were put in Athos' platoon, although Athos may have been one to disagree. The three of them stood together for fifteen minutes when everyone then lined up, ready to climb up the ladders to march to the German line.

Athos stood beside them, "Good luck gentlemen and I hope to see you on the other side"

"You to" answered Porthos, Aramis nodded at Athos and readied himself because he was to be one of the first up the ladder.

Athos nodded at them one more time before he placed his whistle between his lips and hearing the whistle before his, he blew his own and Aramis shuffled towards the ladder and quickly began to climb it with Porthos directly behind him.

The rattle of machine gun fire erupted all around him as he stumbled through the mud into the unknown.

* * *

**A/N So is this worth continuing? I'd appreciate your thoughts.**


	2. Where is the honour in this?

**A/N Thank you all for the reviews they really mean a lot! And sorry for the wait but revision and exams have taken up most of my time.**

* * *

**October 1915**

Aramis was sat huddled his dugout to escape the rain, and was clutching a letter from his mother desperately. He was soaking up the news of the everyday running of the farm; he missed the simplicity of the farm and longed to be standing beside his father watching the animals. His mother had asked after him and Aramis had already decided to avoid answering in his next letter, he had changed after his first time going over the top and he did not want to concern his mother with what was happening to him. Aramis had been helpless to watch as his friends had fallen all around him and he could do nothing except keep walking forwards, he had become angry when they had ended up retreating back to their starting positions believing that his friends had died for nothing.

He smiled softly when his mother mentioned Isabelle and Anne, two girls who had been in school with him and Porthos, his mother mentioned how they were enjoying being able to work in a Munitions factory reveling in the fact that they were being allowed to do a 'man's job'. Porthos often teased him about the girls, Isabelle made no secret that she liked Aramis more than a friend she had even kissed him before he got on the train leaving Kemble. Aramis had thought he saw sadness etched on Anne's face seeing Isabelle kiss him, although the look was soon gone and Aramis passed it off as wishful thinking. For while Isabelle was a dear friend to him, Anne was the one person he could only imagine living the rest of his life with.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when some rations were thrust into his face; he tucked his letter into his pocket and thankfully took the food from Porthos' outstretched hand.

Porthos sat across from him and sent him a glare, "You really need to stop forgetting to line up and collect your food. You're lucky the cook knows I'm not getting seconds and knows I'm just making sure you eat"

Aramis shrugged and swallowed before answering, "I was reading a letter Mama sent me"

Porthos rolled his eyes, "Your Mama will be horrified to learn that you would rather read her letter than get something to eat"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her" Aramis responded dismissively.

Porthos growled and pointed a finger at him, "If it happens again I'm writing to your Mama and telling her you're forgetting to eat. Let's see how dismissive you will be then"

"You wouldn't" stated Aramis frowning,

"Try me" goaded Porthos, he grew serious and added, "You can't go hungry Aramis that will only lead to trouble"

Aramis rolled his eyes but nodded anyway and continued to eat. He promised himself that he would try to remember to line up, he was easily distracted but he did not want his mother to worry about him not eating. Should Porthos ever write telling her of Aramis going hungry he knew that although he would not be standing in front of his mother, he knew he would still feel her anger directed at him through her words. Sophie d'Herblay was someone you did not want to anger.

Porthos sighed and looked out of the dugout at the muddy trench, "I hate all this waiting, especially after the German's attack a couple of weeks ago. It's too quiet and nothing to do but wait"

"Yes waiting is terrible, but it is better than traipsing through No Man's Land getting shelled and shot at. Getting wounded and having to lie in the mud for a long time before anyone comes to help you, all because everyone else has been ordered to keep moving forward" responded Aramis bitterly.

"Careful what you say Aramis" warned Porthos as he gave Aramis a worried look, "you could get in trouble for saying that"

"It is the truth" pointed out Aramis, he thought back on Jimmy Marshall who he had taken under his wing. The 16 year old had been awed by Aramis' shooting skills and had stuck close to the older boy, Aramis shuddered remembering seeing the exact moment that Jimmy had been struck in the shoulder and leg, Aramis had wanted to help but had been pushed forwards. He had volunteered to go out after the attack to search for survivors, he had found the younger boy and discovered Jimmy had died from his injuries.

Porthos leaned over and squeezed Aramis' shoulder knowing what his brother was thinking, "Jimmy died honourably for his King and Country-"

"Honourably?!" exclaimed Aramis shaking Porthos' hand off his shoulder, "What _honour_? We live worse than the animals back at the farm! We get shot at; shelled at and subjected to gas that kills us! And spend hours caked in mud! Tell me Porthos what is honourably about that?!"

Porthos opened his mouth to reply when a voice from the trench gained their attention, "Careful Aramis you are lucky that it was only I that heard you"

Aramis turned so he was looking up at Athos' disapproving look, "Sorry Sir" muttered Aramis.

Athos sighed, "I am sorry about your friend, but there is no use spouting out words, _loudly_ I add, that can lead to trouble"

"He was a _boy_ Athos, barely 16. He had no reason to be here and he died alone surrounded by mud" responded Aramis,

Athos looked down at Aramis with sorrow filled eyes, "You are a boy as well Aramis. To me you are what Jimmy was to you"

"The difference is _I_ am old enough to join the Army where he was not" snapped Aramis. He knew he shouldn't be saying what he was, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know how else to deal with what he was going through. He couldn't write to his mother, Isabelle or Anne for the fear of worrying them, he couldn't write to his father about it because he knew he would never get a reply because his father hated the subject of war, his father didn't even write to him, his mother said it was the war that was affecting him and his fear for his son, and he could understand that. His only option other than bottling it up was talking to Porthos where he ran the risk of an Officer hearing him.

Athos sighed and nodded at them before he continued on his walk to the Officer's dugout.

"Aramis stop with this talk!" ordered Porthos as he worriedly looked around for anyone else who might hear Aramis.

Aramis shook his head and snapped, "I've got sentry duty all night, see you in the morning" and then he swiftly stood up, he grabbed his rifle and stalked out of the dugout and through the trench slinging his rifle onto his shoulder. All the while clutching his shaking hands into fists to stop them trembling from anger.

As night fell Aramis sighed deeply and felt peace sweep over him calming his thoughts. Distantly he heard the rumble of shells and shuddered feeling sorry for the men who were on the receiving end. The cold bit sharply at his limbs and he tightened his coat around him and pressed his hands under his armpits to try and keep them warm, he wriggled his toes to starve off the numbness and looked out across at the stretch of mud separating him from the German line. He could just about make out the outline of the destroyed and frayed trees and the craters of mud created by the shells. In the daylight the sight was terrifying and in the moonlight it was just as bad, the soft glow of the moon used to comfort him as a child and now his living nightmare was tainting all the things that helped keep him calm. The barbed wire glinted in the moonlight serving as a reminder that he wasn't on his farm looking at an aftermath of a storm, he was stood in the middle of a war that had already claimed many lives.

Soon dawn came and he watched as the pink-red light stretched out across the land, he tried not to think that it looked as if the sun itself was wounded and bleeding out over the sky. The next sentry arrived and he slowly made his way back to his dug out, the cook passed him and handed him his morning's rations. He nibbled slowly at the food on his way back to the dugout for once his bitter thoughts leaving him alone in the daylight. He entered the dugout and propped his rifle against the mud wall, he heard someone shifting and turned, his gaze met Porthos' and he gave his friend a small smile. His smiled was returned and he all had been forgiven.

"Nice to see you've got something to eat. Looks like there is hope for you after all" smiled Porthos.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "Cook passed me and all but thrust the rations into my hand"

"See, it isn't only me that notices you forget to feed yourself" chuckled Porthos,

Aramis' retort was cut off by a yawn; he finished his rations and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He shuffled over to where his blanket was spread out beside Porthos', they were lucky usually there were at least four men to a dugout. Aramis pushed aside the reminder of Jimmy, the young boy had shared the dugout with himself and Porthos and the empty space was a reminder of the young boy's death that came all too soon. He knew while Porthos was sad about Jimmy's death, Porthos did like the extra room as both himself and Porthos were quite tall. They were both taking the opportunity to stretch their legs until Captain Treville assigned some other men to their dugout.

Aramis slumped down and while lying down he battled with his blanket to untangle it and remove parts of it from underneath him; chuckling Porthos reached over and straightened it out for him and laying the blanket over him, before he covered Aramis with his own blanket.

"I'm not using it right now, so you might as well" commented Porthos seeing Aramis' confused look,

Aramis smiled in thanks and closed his eyes. Just before he fell asleep he heard Porthos add as he tucked the blankets around Aramis' shoulders, "Just don't get used to having two blankets". Aramis smiled and drifted off to sleep, dreaming about the farm, his family and Anne. For once his dreams were not plagued by haunting memories; instead they were filled with the images his mother's letter conjured of a peaceful village in the Gloucestershire countryside that he called home.


	3. No calm before the storm

**A/N This is set during The Battle of Albert, 1-13 July 1916 (The first offensive of the 1916 Battle of the Somme). So in advance this is kind of a depressing chapter, well more so than the first two. This chapter also has an AU version of the Savoy massacre.**

* * *

**30****th**** June 1916**

Aramis stood out on the trench board watching the German lines in front of him, artillery shells were fired above him and he had been at the Front long enough not to flinch. While the Germans were the army they were fighting, he could not help but feel sorry for the men who were on the receiving end. He had been in that position in the past and it had been an experience he would prefer never to relive. Athos walked past him along the trench, he was more tense than usual. Aramis knew this was because Thomas, Athos' younger brother, had reached the age of 18 and was now serving as a Lieutenant in the 8th (Service) Battalion Gloucestershire Regiment which was a part of the 57th Brigade in the 19th (Western) Division. A Division that was also going to take part in the battle Aramis' own Division, the 1st Division, was taking part in.

Without being told by the officers Aramis knew the battle was viewed as an important one because they had been shelling the German positions non-stop for a week. The insistent booming sound along with the flashes of orange light were beginning to invade Aramis' mind, even when there was a few moments of silence he could still hear the shelling and see the flashing lights when he closed his eyes. He found it hard to sleep and was envious of Porthos' ability to fall asleep as soon as he was lying horizontal. Aramis made sure he did not toss and turn to avoid from waking Porthos and the two other men in their dugout, but as soon as he fell asleep to him what felt like minutes later he was being woken up in the morning for some reason or another. The waiting was getting to him, he felt as if he would go mad if he did not _do something_ soon. There was nothing to do other than sit in his dugout or stand on sentry duty and watch as the German lines were bombarded.

From the corner of his eye he watched as the youngest in his company began cleaning their rifles for there was nothing else to do. They were 18, the same age as Thomas, Aramis himself was only 19 (by four months) and he felt years older than the fresh-faced boys new to the horrors of war. It had almost been a year since Aramis watched as the cliffs of Britain faded away from sight; he almost couldn't recall the faces of those he held dear back home. His memories were taken up with the sights he had seen and he hated it. He had no peace of mind; some of his fellow soldiers had the ability shut themselves away in their dugout and get lost in the happy memories of home. Oh how Aramis _envied_ them. What he wouldn't give to just be able to sit quietly and remember the soft, lush grass of the Gloucestershire countryside and remember the fun he and Porthos had growing up on the farm.

His replacement came and Aramis nodded his head in greeting and stepped down into the trench and wandered back to his dugout. While he would much prefer the wide open spaces of the farm back home, he couldn't deny the safety he felt sitting in the small muddy space. Inside was only Porthos, who was busy cleaning his rifle. They would be up extra early the following morning to trek across No Man's Land. Something Aramis was equal parts looking forward to and dreading.

Aramis stretched out on his blanket and angled his head so he could see Porthos with his head rested on one arm.

"Athos seems more tightly strung that usual" commented Aramis, not liking the silence that had taken hold in the dugout.

Porthos snorted without any humour, "He found out his younger brother has joined the army and is about to fight in a battle. What is there _not _to be tense about?"

"You sound as if you are talking from experience. Don't have a younger brother I don't know about do you?" smirked Aramis.

Porthos reached across and lightly smacked Aramis' arm, "You idiot you know you're my younger brother"

"I don't understand that" mused Aramis as he stared up at the roof of the dugout, "I understand Athos being worried about Thomas, there is four years between them. But I am merely a month younger than you." Aramis then turned his head to look over at Porthos.

Porthos gave his friend a small smile, "I don't know, growing up I always felt a little protective, you were the one who got hurt more often than I, you were ill more, I just got it into my head that I had to look after you"

"Well you don't need to worry anymore" assured Aramis,

"You sure?" questioned Porthos, "Looking at where we are, I'd say I have a lot of cause to worry about you. You can go through phases of being accident prone and a war is no place to become accident prone"

Aramis rolled his eyes, "You can save your breath on that lecture. Mama told me that before I left and she tells me that in every other letter she writes. And look I've been here almost a year and I haven't tripped over my own feet or accidentally shot myself"

Porthos gave Aramis a look; they both knew accidentally shooting themselves was not an option. Others could think they were trying to go home and get out of the army and they could be shot for cowardice.

The sun began to set and so Porthos propped his rifle against the wall and shifted under his blanket, "Best get some sleep"

Aramis moved so his blanket was covering himself and muttered under his breath, "Sleep. What's that?"

Despite Aramis' quiet voice Porthos heard him and shot him a sharp glare, "You didn't say you hadn't been sleeping"

Aramis shrugged the best he could from lying on his back, "I have slept, just not for as long as you or very well"

Porthos' sharp glare became a worried look, "You should have said. You need to be well rested"

Aramis shifted so he was lying on his side facing Porthos, "Don't worry, no matter how tired I am I will be wide awake tomorrow. Getting shot at tends to do that to a person." Porthos wasn't amused by Aramis' attempt at humour. Aramis saw the look on Porthos' face and sighed. "Porthos don't worry, if you do that you won't sleep tonight and then who will make sure I don't trip over my own feet?"

Porthos snorted and nodded his head. They both closed their eyes and Aramis was pleased he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Maybe his self-consciousness was aware he needed sleep to be able to function tomorrow. While he said to Porthos he would be wide awake from being shot at, Aramis knew without enough sleep he would be slightly slower in making decisions and that was _not_ something he needed when walking across No Man's Land.

When a decision could mean life or death.

* * *

Aramis stumbled through the mud and craters of No Man's Land his rifle griped tightly in his hands, Porthos walked close on his right and Athos nearby on his left. He narrowed his eyes in determination and marched across the mud not once flinching at the rat-a-tat of machine gun and rifle fire, and the screeching of shells.

He heard the desperate mutterings and shouts of his fellow soldiers of their confusion, "We bombarded them for a _week_. Their positions were supposed to be _destroyed_. Why are they still able to shoot at us?!"

Aramis did not look at the men around him, he knew many were being cut down by the machine gun and he could not bear to see his friends lying in the mud knowing he could do nothing to help them. Then, his worst nightmare became a reality. Porthos stumbled and crashed into the mud with a pain filled gasp.

Aramis crouched down beside his friend and was relieved to see Porthos had taken a bullet to his left thigh and it appeared no arteries had been hit.

"What are you doing?!" hissed Porthos as he tried to push Aramis' hands away, "You need to keep moving. If any Officer sees you they'll punish you!"

Aramis forcefully moved Porthos' hands and wrenched a bandage from his pack. While he was not an official medic, Aramis had experience in tending to injuries, something he had learnt from his father. So the medics would give Aramis any bandages they could spare. Just in case they were unable to reach a wounded man and Aramis was closer. Aramis had not had to do this often; he only tended to the men who fell within feet of him. This was something Porthos hated, Porthos would have to keep marching on and leave Aramis in the depths of No Man's Land, whenever Aramis caught up to Porthos he wouldn't be able to stop his friend from ranting at him to stop doing the medics job.

"Aramis! Just leave me here a medic will soon find me!" ordered Porthos as he looked despairingly up at his friend.

"Just shut up and let me bandage your leg!" growled Aramis. Porthos quickly closed his mouth and looked up at Aramis in shock; he was seeing his friend in a new light. He saw how quick and efficient his friend was, Aramis looked calm despite the shells howling overhead. Porthos knew Aramis had done this a few times for their friends and so he made the decision to talk to Athos about the bravery Aramis was showing.

Aramis had soon bandaged Porthos' leg and draped one of Porthos' arms over his shoulders and hoisted Porthos to his feet and Aramis began to walk them towards the German lines.

"You've bandaged my leg now leave me here and _move_" urged Porthos,

Aramis rolled his eyes and sharply replied, "So you want me to leave you here. Alright so you would be fine to watch me march across this muddy mess and possibly never see me again?"

Porthos' face paled and he began to walk quicker, Aramis had a point. If Aramis did as Porthos said, there was a chance, a very big chance, that Porthos would never see Aramis alive again. No that wasn't an option, if one of them was to die, then they would both go together. Aramis smirked knowing that he had won and so he gripped Porthos' waist a little tighter and carried most of Porthos' weight as they made their way to the German trench.

* * *

The two friends stumbled over to the meeting point where the Sergeant, a man in his early forties called Charles Fowler, was starting to take a register of the men from their platoon. Just to the side Aramis spotted Athos stood watching as the men from his platoon slowly started to make their way over.

"Baldwin, John"

"Sir"

"Barker, Derrick"

Pause.

"Berry, Jerald"

"Sir"

"Bridges, Thomas"

Pause.

"Brooks, Andrew"

"Sir"

"Brooks, Gerald"

"Sir"

"Bryant, Kevin"

Pause.

"Daniel, Colin"

Pause.

"d'Herblay, Aramis"

"Sir" responded Aramis, his eyes lowered as even he could see that over half of their platoon of thirty-five men was missing from the meeting point.

"Du Vallon, Porthos"

"Sir" answered Porthos, trying to keep his voice neutral from the pain from his leg and the pain at the sheer number of their friends who had been lost. Aramis hoped that most of their friends were only injured, waiting in No Man's Land for someone to help them. He didn't know how much he believed in that hope.

"Elliott, Charles"

Pause.

"Elliott, Darrel"

"Sir" came the pained answer.

"Elliott, Kenneth"

Pause. Aramis bowed his head, Darrel had lost both of his brothers in the same day. Aramis didn't look at Porthos knowing that had the bullet that hit Porthos been a little higher he would be in Darrel's position.

"Gilbert, Hugh"

Pause.

"Gray, Edward"

"Sir"

"Gray, Robert"

"Sir"

"Hamilton, Ellis"

Pause.

"Harris, John"

"Sir"

"Higgins, Leo"

Pause. Aramis could hear Sergeant Fowler's voice begin to crack with emotion, as the reality of so many who had been lost came crashing down.

"Hughes, Robin"

Pause.

"Mason, Jamie"

Pause.

"Mason, Thomas"

Pause.

"Moore, Charles"

Pause.

"Patterson, Joe"

Pause.

"Porter, Douglas"

"Sir" the sigh of relief was audible. After so many names going unanswered it was a relief to know at least some more of them has still survived.

"Powell, Arthur"

"Sir"

"Price, Peter"

Pause.

"Richardson, Harry"

Pause.

"Russell, Frank"

Pause.

"Scott, Victor"

Pause.

"Stone, Francis"

"Sir"

"Taylor, Ryan"

Pause.

"Thompson, Joseph"

"Sir"

"Watkins, John"

Pause.

"White, Brian"

Pause.

At the end of the list, there wasn't a man standing at the meeting point who didn't have tears in his eyes. So many had been lost. The poor mother of Jamie and Thomas Mason would be getting two telegrams informing her of the death of her sons. Darrel Elliott, should he survive the war, would be the only brother out of three returning home. Aramis shook his head at the unfairness of it all.

* * *

**2****nd**** July 1916**

Aramis sat in the trench forlornly, he was burrowed into a dugout with Darrel Elliott; he had taken the 18 year old under his wing. He hadn't wanted to after what happened to Jimmy Marshall, but Darrel was used to the company of his older brothers, he didn't have them anymore. Porthos had been taken to a Casualty Clearing Station and from there moved to a Field Hospital; Porthos had kicked up a fuss. He didn't want to leave Aramis behind, but Aramis could only tell Porthos that he would be fine. The desperate look in Porthos' eyes would be a look that would haunt Aramis for a very long time. He had grasped Porthos' hand and squeezed, it was uncertain if Aramis would ever see his brother again.

Aramis shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to Darrel who sat staring blankly at his hands. Aramis wrapped an arm around the younger boy's shoulder and pushed Darrel's rations into his hands.

"Eat Darrel" urged Aramis,

Darrel turned his pitiful eyes on Aramis, "I can't I'm not hungry, just the thought of eating makes me feel sick"

Aramis nodded in understanding, "Just little bites now and then. That'll be just as good for you"

The boy nodded and took a few bites before placing his rations next to him and settled down to go to sleep.

Aramis watched the lonely figure of Athos, as he stood overlooking the trench just outside the dugout. Aramis stood up and went to stand beside his childhood friend. Minutes after the register was taken the day before, a messenger had arrived to inform Athos that his brother, Thomas, had been killed. Standing beside his friend Aramis could smell the alcohol Athos had consumed.

"Athos" greeted Aramis, at a loss for what to say for the first time in his life.

"You're still here then" commented Athos, "I'm beginning to lose track on who is alive and who isn't"

"I'm still here and so will Porthos once he gets back from the Field Hospital" replied Aramis, trying to show Athos that he wasn't alone.

"For how much longer?" questioned Athos bitterly before he turned and stumbled through the trench, Aramis' saddened eyes following him.

* * *

**12****th**** July 1916**

Aramis and ten other men from his platoon were grouped together with ten men from another platoon from their company. They were tasked with patrolling the surrounding area for anything that might be useful in forcing the Germans out of the area. Aramis and a man he was friendly with called Marsac, paired off to stand sentry a little away from the men as they rested in the woods. Suddenly, Aramis felt his stomach twist and he knew something was wrong. So he spun around and charged back towards the others with Marsac hot on his heels. And there he came face to face with his friends being massacred by a bigger group of German soldiers. Without thought Aramis loaded his rifle and began to fire, but soon he was grouped with the others and didn't have enough room to aim with his rifle so he began to use it to hit the enemy.

He spun around and found himself staring at a German rifle that was pointed at him, he braced himself for the shot and sent up a prayer that Porthos would not take his death too hard. But the German soldier lowered his weapon, he approached Aramis swiftly.

"You are a boy, I will not kill you. But you must be injured for my fellows to believe you are dead" Aramis frowned in his concentration to understand the thick accent. Just as he understood that he was being spared, the German raised his rifle and with the butt of the rifle he hit Aramis on the head.

Pain consumed Aramis' head like fire, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He felt himself fall to the ground and roll down a small embankment, the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was Marsac crouched over him. Hiding them both from the enemy's eyes.


	4. The worst is the unknown

**A/N For timeline purposes this chapter is set during the Battle of Bazentin Ridge 14-17 July 1916, the second offensive of the Battle of the Somme. This chapter has a different POV.**

* * *

**15****th**** July 1916**

Porthos clambered out of a truck and looked upon the series of trenches knowing that his friends and his brother Aramis were stuck there. While he had been resting at the Field Hospital in a bed, his friends had been sitting in the cold mud for two weeks. He knew that the second offensive against the Germans had begun and 1st Division had been unlucky enough to be involved in this offensive immediately after the first offensive. Porthos tried not to imagine what might have become of Aramis without him there to keep an eye on his friend. Ever since they were small boys trouble always seemed to follow Aramis, in the year that they had been in France Porthos could see how the war was affecting Aramis. It was affecting them all, but Aramis seemed to be haunted the most. Aramis loved the beauty in nature and humanity, there was no beauty in war only; horror, pain and death.

He was told where his Battalion was in the mass of trenches and slowly made his way to the front. He chuckled dryly without humour, any sane person would walk away from the frontline, but here he was heading towards the fighting.

He found Captain Treville and was confused to see the sympathetic look on the older man's face. Treville rested a hand on his shoulder and opened his mouth to speak but one of the Lieutenants needed his attention, so Treville patted his shoulder and turned away. Porthos walked through the trench to be faced with more sympathetic looks. He brushed them aside looking for Aramis, but he saw Athos first.

"Still alive then" greeted Porthos smiling at his childhood friend.

Athos spun around with shock written across his face, "You're alive."

Porthos frowned, "Of course I am, I was only shot in the leg. You saw me"

"I thought I had lost you to" admitted Athos softly.

Porthos' eyebrows narrowed in confusion, "You thought you lost me to. What does that mean?"

Athos merely looked at Porthos wearing the same look on his face he had when he learned of Thomas' death.

Porthos' eyes widened and he began to shake his head and moaned, "No. No. _No_!"

Athos stepped closer and rested both his hands on Porthos' shoulders, "I am sorry Porthos"

Porthos gripped his hair tightly and clenched his eyes shut, "Oh please God _no_. Not Aramis!"

Athos squeezed Porthos' shoulders tighter and then pulled the younger boy into an empty dugout. Athos sat opposite Porthos with a grim look on his face and waited for Porthos to gather his thoughts together.

From where he was sitting with his head in his hands Porthos saw from the corner of his eye the look on Athos' face and closed his eyes in pain. Athos was sitting just like Aramis used to with the same look on his face.

"Where is he?" asked Porthos hoarsely as he sat up and dejectedly leaned back against the mud wall. Athos frowned. "I want to say goodbye even if it is to a grave, for all intense and purposes he was my brother"

"I don't know where he is" answered Athos,

Porthos sighed and thought maybe he could find out where Aramis was buried and instead asked brokenly, "What…what happened to him? Was his…death…was it long and painful? Or was it swift and quick?"

"I don't know" sighed Athos.

"You don't know much then" spat Porthos. He sighed and then looked over at Athos, "I'm sorry"

"Don't be" responded Athos with a look on his face that Porthos knew meant he was beating himself up. "I don't know much, in fact no one does"

"What do you mean?" questioned Porthos, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. All he wanted to do was say goodbye to the brother who he failed to look after. Was that too much to ask for?

Athos rubbed a hand across his face, "Aramis and ten men from our platoon and ten men from another platoon were sent out on a patrol to scout the area. And find anything that might help push the Germans back, all we know is that they were ambushed."

"If you don't know what happened to Aramis. How do you know this?" asked Porthos,

Athos sighed, "When the patrol failed to return we went out to find them. We found them in the woods. Slaughtered."

Porthos bit back a moan at the painful thought of Aramis slaughtered in some woods like an animal. "So he is dead then"

"We can only presume he is" answered Athos, seeing the look on Porthos' face he continued, "All the men were accounted for. All of them except Marsac and Aramis"

"So he's alive!" exclaimed Porthos happily, his eyes brightening in hope.

"Porthos" growled Athos, "If he was alive do you _really_ think that I would have pulled you into this dugout to say I was sorry? I know I occasionally helped Aramis play a joke on you, but this is something I would never do. This is something _Aramis_ would _never_ do"

"But you didn't find him in the woods!" argued Porthos, his voice laced with hope.

Athos sighed and leaning forward rested a hand on Porthos' knee, "Porthos there is the very _real_ possibility that Aramis was taken prisoner by the Germans, but he could still die in a Prisoner of War camp. And if he wasn't, the patrol set out on the 12th, that was three days ago Porthos. Aramis would most certainly have been injured and with no medical aid…"

Porthos bowed his head as Athos' words sunk in. He thought back on Aramis, the little brother his parents had never given him, he remembered the look on Aramis' face when he finally managed to climb trees just as high as Porthos could. He remembered the look on Aramis' face when he rode for hours out on the countryside. While he was only a month and a half older than Aramis, once he was a toddler and understood that being the eldest it was his responsibility to watch over Aramis he had sworn to protect the younger boy. And he had failed, Athos told him how Aramis was gone, Aramis had died in a war he never wanted any part of. Porthos knew Aramis only joined the army because he himself was. Aramis didn't want him to go to war alone; it was his fault Aramis had ended up on that patrol. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Marsac" stated Porthos as he raised his head,

Athos frowned, "What about him?"

Porthos leaned forward excitedly, "You said you couldn't find Aramis or Marsac. Fine you do not know what happened to Aramis. But what about Marsac?"

"He was found" answered Athos, his tone laced with hidden anger. "He was found ten miles from the frontline"

"He _deserted?!_" Porthos exclaimed angrily.

Athos nodded, "He was found the following day"

"What did he say?" demanded Porthos,

"Nothing of any use" dismissed Athos, "He was rambling on like a mad man, no one could make any sense of him. We asked him about what happened and he stopped talking and had a faraway look on his face. I asked him about Aramis and all he did was look through me."

"Where is Marsac now?"

"Dead. He was Shot"

"What?!" Porthos cried out.

"He was a deserter, you know how they are dealt with" answered Athos with a frown, "If he didn't answer me when I asked him about Aramis, he wouldn't have answered you either"

Porthos raised his head defiantly, "I will not believe Aramis is dead until I see a body."

Athos sighed and rose to his feet, the frown still etched across his face, "As you will" he commented dryly. "But do not blame me when the wondering keeps you up at night, this war could last for years and you might not get an answer. Even when the war has ended, you may never get an answer. There is no use in hoping Porthos; it will only drive you to madness."

Porthos narrowed his eyes, "Better to hope than to believe the worst. You say hoping will only drive me to madness. I say hoping will only keep me fighting; Aramis was the reason I kept going, without him I would have given up months ago and let fate decide what happened to me. So I will not let him down, while there is no definite answer to his fate. I _will not_ believe that he is dead."

* * *

**A/N I hope that I have gotten rid of Marsac after "Savoy" does not bother anyone and I promise Aramis will be seen in the next chapter. I just thought it would be interesting to just have a chapter with Porthos and Athos; I'd love to hear what you thought.**


	5. If you should die before I find you

**18****th**** July 1916**

Porthos sat hunched over in his dugout, with his head in his hands. There had still been no news of Aramis and he stubbornly refused to believe that his brother was dead. By now he knew Aramis' parents would have received a telegram informing them that Aramis had been reported Missing in Action, he had sent his own letter explaining that he did not believe Aramis was dead. But it had been five days since Aramis set out with the patrol which never returned, with 1st Division not taking part in the next offensive Porthos hoped that with the much needed break he would be able to find some information that might lead him to Aramis.

Athos was being reluctant in helping Porthos, and he knew it was because Athos did not want to hope. When he had already lost his brother and had seen many men go missing to be later found dead or not found at all.

While Aramis may have survived the massacre and be taken to a Field Hospital, he didn't know the extent of Aramis' injuries and he was worried that Aramis may die alone. Aramis' biggest fear all his life was the fear of being alone. Porthos knew if Aramis had died, then he would never forgive himself. Aramis was the kindest person he had ever met and he liked people, so for him to end up dying without his friends wouldn't be fair to the person who had been Porthos' brother his entire life.

He shook himself and banished the thoughts from his mind and latched onto his hope and belief that Aramis was still alive. He wasn't dead, Porthos just knew it. While he still believed Aramis was alive, it still meant that he was no closer in finding out where Aramis was. There was a slight chance that Aramis hadn't been taken to a Field Hospital, he could have been found by some French civilians and they could have taken him to their house to care for his injuries before determining him strong enough to travel the distance to a Field Hospital.

Porthos sat up and rubbed a hand across his face and looked up at the sky, as if it held all his answers and would tell him where Aramis was. "Where are you Aramis? I know you are not dead. So where are you?"

* * *

Aramis groaned, he felt so hot and had no control over the shivers that shook his body. He had tried many times to force his eyes open, but his eyelids would just not budge. He tried with all his might to open his eyes, for leaving them closed allowed for the haunting memories of the massacre to take a firm grip over his thoughts. Every now and then he would feel a cool and comforting hand rest on his forehead and he would find himself leaning into the touch.

If he didn't concentrate too hard he could almost believe it was his mother who was resting her hand on his head and running her fingers through his hair. In these peaceful moments he was able to drag his thoughts away from the massacre and instead he could focus on happy memories of home. The mishaps he, Porthos, Thomas and even Athos would get into, caring Isabelle with her sharp tongue and perfect Anne who could match his wit but not hesitate to help him even if he did not ask.

He did not know how long it had been since the massacre, but his head still ached and while he may not be very aware of his surroundings he knew his friends were not with him.

He heard the scraping of a chair and tilted his head in the direction of the noise; a soft hand came to rest on his forehead. "I wish we knew your name" murmured the nurse sat beside him.

Aramis was confused, why didn't they know his name? Yes he left his personal things in his dugout, but he had still been wearing his dogtags when he was on the patrol.

The nurse continued speaking to him, "Your dogtags must have been lost when you were changed out of your uniform. You've been here six days; your family would have been informed that you were missing by now. I wish I knew who you were so I could write to them and tell them that you are alright."

_The patrol was six days ago?! Porthos would be back with the Battalion by now, they would have told him I was missing. He better not get himself killed! Otherwise I'll bring him back to life so I can kill him myself!_ Thought Aramis, he then began to fight to open his eyes. He managed to open them a little; the nurse gasped and leaned over him.

"Porthos" murmured Aramis, his eyes beginning to flicker shut to his annoyance.

"Is that your name?" asked the nurse gently as she held his hand.

Aramis shook his head slightly, he was beginning to lose his fight with consciousness but his worry for Porthos kept him fighting that little bit longer.

"A friend?" questioned the nurse quickly, as she too could see Aramis was slowly sinking towards unconsciousness.

Aramis nodded, "Porthos…Du Vallon…1st Division…Gloucestershire…Regiment…" as Aramis' eyes slipped closed, he saw the nurse's smiling face and knew that she would get word to Porthos that he was alive. And so Aramis let the darkness consume him knowing that it would stop the pain in his head.

Before he lost all sense of awareness of what was going on around him he felt the nurse run her fingers though his hair and heard her softly say, "I'll get word to your friend, I promise."

Aramis slipped back into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

* * *

"Du Vallon!" Porthos spun around at Treville's shout, seeing the Captain gesturing to him.

Porthos jogged over and stopping he saluted the Captain. "Sir?"

"I have some news for you" said Treville as he led Porthos into the Officer's dugout, Porthos could see Athos sat at the table slowly drinking from a flask. Treville gestured for Porthos to take a seat and sat across from the younger boy. "It is about your friend"

"Aramis?" Porthos questioned sitting up straighter, from the corner of his eye he saw Athos copy his movement and putting his flask down on the rickety wooden table.

Treville nodded, "A nurse from the nearest Field Hospital contacted me"

"So he was taken to a Field Hospital?" asked Porthos excitedly,

Treville smiled, "He suffered a blow to the head which is just a small injury, but he developed a fever which kept him unconscious and unable to inform anyone of his name"

Porthos frowned, "But he would have been wearing his dogtags"

Treville nodded, "I said as much to the nurse, but she explained that his dogtags must have been accidentally removed with his uniform. And with Aramis being unable to talk meant that the orderlies and nurses were unable to be sure who Aramis was. But Aramis regained consciousness earlier today and gave the nurse your name and this regiment."

"He'll be disappointed to learn that he was unconscious while a nurse undressed him" smirked Porthos, as a grin slowly spread across his face. He looked over at Athos, who raised his flask in a silent toast and took a sip.

"Can I go and see him Sir?" asked Porthos, as he fiddled with his hands in his nervous excitement.

"Technically I am not allowed to let you, but civilian family members in some cases are granted permission to visit their loved ones at Field Hospitals. So if anyone asks, Private d'Herblay is your cousin. Understood?"

Porthos grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Understood Sir." Porthos rose to his feet and saluted Treville before he turned and left the dugout feeling more relaxed than he had in the past six days.

As he walked through the trench he caught sight of Darrel Elliot looking at him. He had learned from Athos that while he had been injured at the Field Hospital Aramis had taken Darrel under his wing, something Porthos thought Aramis would never do after Jimmy Marshall was killed. So Porthos smiled and nodded at Darrel, the younger boy's face broke out into a smile knowing that Porthos was telling him Aramis was alright. Porthos' heart lightened at the sight, ever since his brother's deaths Darrel had become a shell of himself and no longer smiled or laughed. Knowing that Aramis had helped the boy continue fighting only proved what Porthos already knew about Aramis. That his friend was kind and caring enough to put his own wants and needs aside to look after someone else. Despite the pain of losing Jimmy after watching over him, Aramis was still prepared to do the same for Darrel.

Porthos looked up at the blue sky, the sun seemed to be shining brighter, but his brother was still alive, that was all that mattered.


	6. Knowing where you need to be

**A/N Porthos might be OOC, but I'm hoping that he's not.**

* * *

**19****th**** July 1916**

Porthos was almost skipping to the truck that would take him to the Field Hospital where Aramis was, he had been unable to sleep due to his excitement of knowing that Aramis was alive. Apart from a minor head injury and a fever Aramis was fine, considering what he had gone through he had gotten off lightly. Porthos pulled himself up into the truck Athos not far behind him, looking closely at his friend Porthos was sure he could see a small smile on Athos' face. On the journey Porthos was not aware of his surroundings; instead his mind was on how Aramis' parents would soon get a telegram informing them that their son was alive; not missing presumed dead.

While Porthos hated the idea of his best friend and brother as dead, he had to admit he would rather have been told that Aramis was dead, than be left wondering what had become of his brother. Yes, knowing was infinitely better than not knowing.

Soon the truck came to a stop and Porthos clambered over Athos' legs in his eagerness to see Aramis and jumped down onto the ground, as soon as his feet hit the ground he turned around to look at the hospital when he frowned.

Athos came to stand beside him and looked from Porthos to the hospital and back again. His eyebrows creased in confusion. "Why are you frowning? You were positively giddy a moment ago."

Without turning to face Athos Porthos commented, "I was here"

"Pardon?" queried Athos,

"When I was wounded I was brought here" elaborated Porthos in a low whisper, clearing his throat to try and keep his voice even.

"Well…yes" frowned Athos, "You were wounded and this is the nearest Field Hospital"

"You don't understand Athos!" exclaimed Porthos, finally looking at his friend. "When Aramis went on that patrol I was still at the Field Hospital resting. The nurse told Treville that Aramis was brought in a day after the massacre!"

Athos' eyes widened a fraction when he realized what Porthos was saying.

"I was here!" moaned Porthos as he backed away from Athos, his hands gripping his hair, "I was so close! I was here when he was first brought here! I was so close and I didn't even know!"

Athos stepped closer and forcefully grasped hold of Porthos' shoulders. "Do _not_. Feel guilty about this Porthos"

"Why shouldn't I? All that time spent worrying about whether Aramis was alive and he was _here_! Our times here overlapped! I didn't know that my brother was here!-"

"Porthos!" interjected Athos, as he tried to calm his friend, but either Porthos couldn't hear him or he was choosing to ignore him.

"I overheard a nurse and orderly talking about a wounded man with a head injury and who was unconscious with a fever. It was Aramis! They were concerned that he might die from the fever, he could have died and I was _so close_ yet I was not at his side!"

"_Enough Porthos_!" hissed Athos. "They didn't know his name, you didn't _see _him. How could you possibly have known he needed you when you had no clue that he was even here?! You didn't even know that he went on a patrol and was wounded! Do _not_ blame yourself when there is no blame to begin with. What happened to Aramis was terrible, but in no way was it your fault. Understand?" Porthos nodded, Athos sighed deeply and in a softer voice continued, "As you have now calmed down lets go find Aramis shall we?"

Again Porthos nodded and he followed Athos into the mass of tents which served as the Field Hospital. He knew Athos was right, that he had no reason to feel guilty, but he couldn't help but think that he should have known that his brother was hurt and needed him. Back home whenever Aramis had been hurt or ill and Porthos was not with him, he always somehow knew Aramis needed him. Why didn't he know this time?

* * *

Aramis in a chair gazing out across the nearby meadow folding a letter into an envelope addressed to Anne. After waking up and remembering the massacre he fully realized how short life could be, you never knew what was around the next corner. While he had no intention of sending the letter to Anne it made him feel better that his feelings for her were written down, and should he not survive the war he knew the letter would be sent on his behalf. He wanted to tell Anne how he felt, but he didn't want to say it in a letter if he could help it. He vowed once he returned home, the first chance he got, he was going to tell Anne how he felt.

With the letter tucked inside the pocket of his hospital issue dressing gown he leaned back in his chair and looked across the meadow, absentmindedly scratching at the bandage which surrounded his head. His fever seemed to have broken and he was told his headaches and dizziness would fade soon, so in two days he would be marching back up the line. A part of him looked forward to it, to be able to see Porthos and Athos again. But another part of him wanted to stay just sat watching the peaceful meadow. If he didn't think too hard he could fool himself into believing that he was looking out at the fields from his bedroom window, but the distant booming of shells ruined that peaceful thought.

He felt eyes watching him and just ignored it, since waking up he was used to the hospital staff keeping a careful watch over him. He just ignored them, but since the massacre he had become slightly nervous when people stared at him too long or approached him silently. The longer the person, or people, stared the more uneasy he got. He swallowed, trying to push down his panic. _It's safe here. You're at a Hospital not in the trenches. It's fine. You're safe_.

He heard the murmurings of voices, he couldn't tell if they were the voices of people he knew but he knew they were continuing to stare. He rubbed a hand over his face and was dismayed to see it shaking. He slumped forward a little so his hand covered his eyes and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. Through the gaps in his fingers he continued to stare out at the meadow. He tensed at the sound of approaching quiet footsteps.

The footsteps stopped a few paces away. The person said nothing. Aramis shut his eyes and tried not to let his breathing become loud and ragged in his growing panic.

"Aramis"

His eyes opened wide. He slowly lowered his hand and turned his head to find Porthos standing nearby with a smile on his face and his eyes suspiciously bright with unshed tears.

"Porthos" murmured Aramis in disbelief, when he had woken up after telling the nurse Porthos' name he had remembered that his friend had been injured. The nurse assured him Porthos was fine and was back in the trenches, but Aramis found he couldn't fully believe her without seeing Porthos for himself. But his dreams and thoughts had been filled with the ghosts of the massacre and found himself doubting that Porthos was really standing in front of him. "Is it really you?"

"It's really me" confirmed Porthos,

"You're not a ghost?" checked Aramis warily.

Porthos' face looked pained at Aramis' question but he smiled again and replied, "No I'm not."

Aramis smiled and shakily got to his feet, then before he realized what was happening Porthos was hugging him tightly.

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again!" ordered Porthos, his voice muffled by Aramis' shoulder.

Aramis chuckled for the first time in a long time, "I'll certainly do my best"

"Try harder than that" commented Porthos, he leaned back and ruffled Aramis' hair. Aramis stumbled a little so Porthos gently pushed him back into the chair.

Aramis then finally took in that Porthos was there with him. Something that wasn't normally allowed.

"What's wrong?" asked Porthos when he saw Aramis' frown, "Do you need a nurse?" he stood and was about to walk over to the nearest nurse he could see when Aramis grasped his sleeve and shook his head. Porthos then knelt down in front of him.

"I was wondering how you were allowed to come see me, normally it's not allowed" he said looking down at Porthos in confusion.

Porthos looked up at him in mock horror, "Aramis! Do you really think Captain Treville would not allow me to come and see my own cousin at the Field Hospital?!"

Aramis paused, and then burst out laughing. It was the first laugh he had had in months and found he couldn't stop. He pressed a hand against his chest and gasped for breath, but still he continued laughing.

"Porthos" chided Athos as he approached, "You're not supposed to try and kill him as soon as you find him." This only made Aramis laugh harder, that and along with Porthos' worried look that showed he was concerned that Aramis may have lost his mind.

Once Aramis had calmed down he relaxed seeing that his friends were safe and for the moment, the ghosts of his friends were leaving him in peace.

* * *

**21****st**** July 1916**

Porthos was stood waiting for the men who were marching back from the Field Hospital, among them was Aramis. While he wanted Aramis at his side to make sure his brother was alright, he couldn't help but wish that Aramis was back in Kemble, far away from the trenches and _safe_.

He thought back on when he found Aramis at the Field Hospital. Seeing Aramis' hunched figure and the thick bandage that surrounded his head contrasting with his dark hair, he knew that it was a sight he would never forget. To him it proved that Aramis was alive, but he couldn't deny, that when Aramis looked up at him, he was worried to see Aramis' usually bright eyes were dull. Aramis asking him if he was a ghost also upset him; it showed that Aramis hadn't been left with a fever and a minor head injury. The massacre had also left him with nightmares. But he had relaxed, when Aramis began laughing hysterically his eyes brightened a little, leaving Porthos knowing that someday Aramis would heal emotionally from the massacre.

Aramis had told him and Athos how the German soldier spared him and how he had woken up about an hour later to Marsac sitting in front of him. Marsac had carried Aramis a mile away from the massacre site, Aramis asked if any others had survived. Marsac stood up, shook his head and left. Leaving Aramis to haul himself to his feet and stumble through the woods with no rations, no map and no weapon. Luckily for Aramis he stumbled towards a road, there he collapsed at the feet of two British soldiers from a different Division. They took him to the Field Hospital where his dogtags were accidentally removed leaving no one sure who he was and which Division he was from. And also left his friends unsure where Aramis had gone, and if he was even alive.

Hearing the story made Porthos want to kill Marsac himself, leaving a wounded man alone in an area he didn't know was unspeakable. Aramis, to Porthos' shock, had no ill will towards Marsac and was even saddened to hear that Marsac had been found guilty of desertion and shot.

Porthos was brought out of his musings at the sound of marching footsteps; he looked and saw the healed men marching towards him. Soon the men halted, he spotted Aramis standing tall in his uniform and waited as the men were told to fall out. Aramis walked over to him smiling.

Porthos clapped Aramis on the shoulder and said, "Good to have you back brother."

* * *

**A/N There should be about another five chapters left in this story, thanks for reading!**


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